


Crime and Punishment

by LibrarySocks



Series: Bratva-verse [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Captain Otabek Altin, Cheating, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Russian Mafia, Russian Mafia Boss Victor Nikiforov, Torture, Victor rapes as punishment, not a fluffy fic, punishment kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22651435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibrarySocks/pseuds/LibrarySocks
Summary: Yuuri is caught helping Yura and Otabek sneak around, so they must all be punished.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Bratva-verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538998
Kudos: 66





	Crime and Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a fluffy fic. In case you made it past the tags without realizing, Victor is a mafia boss and in this fic he rapes his boyfriend Yuuri in front of his captains, and then his cousin's lover, Otabek. Please do not read this fic if you are not comfortable with these themes.

Yuuri focuses on the sounds of Victor breathing, on the feel of the table beneath his back, the slow slide of Victor moving in and out of him, to block out the jeers of the men around them. 

Victor’s hair falls across his forehead as he moves determinedly inside Yuuri, his face a mask. Yuuri knows his life depends on making Victor finish in him without getting there himself, that Victor thinks him properly chastened. If anyone were to claim Yuuri hasn’t been punished properly it could all be over for him, so he lets a tear leak out of his eye, followed by a small whimper. He’s rewarded with a sneer and Victor digging his nails into his hips. 

He hadn’t known what was going on at first when Victor had thrown him into the room filled with his captains, shoving his pants down and pushing him onto the table. Was he high? Was he exploring an exhibition kink without asking first? Then Yura and Otabek had been brought in and shoved into front row seats and Yuuri realized that Victor knew. They were fucked. 

Except Yuuri was the only one being fucked right now, and he needed to figure out a way out of this. Let Victor’s men taunt him, if he got out of this alive he’d still have the power to make Victor kill any one of them. They’d do well to remember it. 

“Victor,” Yuuri gasps out, trying to look suitably pathetic, “I’m so sorry, please.” 

Satisfaction flashes across Victor’s face, and he picks up the pace, pounding in harder. Yuuri tries to make his body relax as much as he can, to look as small and pliable as possible. 

“I love you,” he pants, “I love you so much, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, please Victor.” 

Victor groans and Yuuri tastes bile in his throat at the thought that Victor is enjoying this so much, enjoying humiliating and hurting him in front of all of these people. He feels a flush blooming on his face, helpless to stop it, and hoping against hope that Victor will interpret it as shame and regret and not the anger it is. 

“Should I let one of them have a turn?” Victor asks, voice menacing, and a cheer goes up in the crowd. 

There’s maybe ten men in the room other than Yura and Otabek, who are both staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused. Yuuri knows if Victor lets any of the men in this room touch him he’s signing their death warrant, and possibly his own. Victor might think it’s a grand idea now, but tomorrow he’ll wake up pissed as hell, and no doubt blaming Yuuri. No, if he wants to live he has to stop that from happening. 

“No, please Victor, no one but you, I’d rather die than let anyone but you touch me. I’m yours, only yours Victor.” 

He knows it’s a calculated risk. Victor might decide that Yuuri’s pleas make the idea even more appealing, or he might, as Yuuri intends, find his devotion alluring and decide he doesn’t want to share him. 

“I was wrong, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hurt me, Victor, please, punish me, but don’t let anyone else touch me.” 

Victor backhands him, and his hips stutter, eyes fluttering. Yuuri’s cheek throbs, but what’s a bruise, a few loose teeth, compared to his life? He makes no move to defend himself, instead crying quietly, nodding. He knows Victor is close, that he needs to decide _now_ if him finishing will be enough, or if he should stave it off longer, so Victor will think he’s been thoroughly punished. There’s also a risk of Victor cumming and deciding to pass him off to one of his men, ensuring they both wind up at the bottom of a lake. 

“Yours, Victor, only yours,” Yuuri weeps, letting his hands claw at the air in front of him, reaching for the silver haired mob boss, before having a stroke of genius. 

God, let Yura forgive him for this. 

“Mine, you’re mine, Victor,” he says, eyes flashing. “Only mine.” 

Victor, sweet stupid Victor, so easily led with just a whisper from Yuuri, gets a cold look in his eyes. Yes, Yuuri thinks, you can do it, put it together. Save me, Vitya. 

Victor pulls out of him, shoving him off the table. Yuuri lets himself be pushed, doesn’t throw his arms out to soften the fall, his head hitting the hard floor and bouncing. He lays there, dazed, pants shoved around his ankles, as Victor stalks across the room to Otabek. 

Yuuri weeps on the floor as Otabek is pulled across the room to take his place. He goes willingly, feet moving automatically, but his gaze is still fixed on the wall, like he’s not in the room at all. Yuuri peeks over his arm at Yura, whose eye is twitching, but makes no move to defend his lover. Smart Yura, Yuuri thinks, just sit there and we’ll all get out of this alive. 

If only he’d been able to convince Yura he didn’t need Otabek in the first place, talk him out of the burgeoning relationship altogether. The young boy wouldn’t be swayed, though. He’d decided that Otabek was his, a pet to keep him entertained, so Yuuri had been forced to step in to help them hide it. When he’d found out Phichit was in on the ruse he’d almost run. He didn’t trust the young hacker one bit, but he hadn’t had a choice. 

Phichit helped them find a small property just for them, and Yuuri had been pulled in even farther, posing as the young man renting the apartment. Phichit had made him a new identity, not ironclad, but good enough for a lease, so Yura and Otabek wouldn’t have to sign anything, wouldn’t have to meet with anyone, could just slip in and out of their little love nest with no one the wiser. 

Except someone had figured it out. Yuuri looks forward to finding out who’d snitched, who was going to pay for these indignities. He crawls forward a little, sitting up so he can start to pull his pants up. He can hear Victor above him, grunting as he tries to get a response out of Otabek. 

Yura’s pale face is turning red, but he doesn’t look away from the spot on the wall he’s chosen to stare at, sitting so still and tall. That won’t do. Yuuri stumbles to his side, taking Otabek’s vacated seat, pulling Yura’s hand from his lap and holding it between his own. 

“You have to give him something, Yura,” Yuuri whispers, watching as Victor rubs a hand down Otabek’s back before pounding back into him. 

Yuuri fights down a fit of jealousy, it won’t get them anywhere right now. Victor doesn’t have to look so happy about having someone else underneath him, though. 

“No.” Yura responds after a long moment, though his hand is shaking in Yuuri’s. 

Oh sweet stubborn child, Yuuri thinks. Willing to get us all killed for your pride. 

“One of you has to give him something,” Yuuri admends, cocking an eyebrow. 

Yura nods, but doesn’t move. So that’s how it’ll be. 

Yuuri’s body aches as he staggers to a stand, moving to Victor’s side. He risks a small touch to Victor’s arm, looking up at him from beneath his lashes, letting his face show some of the pain he’s feeling. Victor pulls him closer, shoving his tongue in his mouth, moaning as he licks into Yuuri’s mouth and shoves in and out of Otabek. 

He has Otabek on his stomach, face pressed against the table, body moving with Victor’s thrusts as if he’s drugged or unconscious, except his eyes are open, staring. He has to be in pain, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. Idiot. 

Victor growls, pounding into Otabek harder, faster, trying to illicit a response and getting nothing for his trouble. Yuuri tries to distract him, sucking a bruise onto his neck, tugging at his hair, like he can’t stand Victor looking at or touching anyone but him. 

“Mine,” he whispers into Victor’s ear, before pulling at his ear lobe with his teeth. “My Vitya,” he whispers just loud enough for Victor to hear, but not his men. 

Victor pauses just long enough to grab Yuuri’s face, and Yuuri yelps at the pain, and Victor presses harder where he’d hit him earlier, and it takes all of Yuuri’s self control not to pull away. Victor keeps his fingers there as he kisses him again, and Yuuri lets the tears from the pain run down his face. 

Soon enough Victor gets bored, though, and turns back to Otabek. 

“We should make him cum, Victor,” Yuuri says, hoping he’s quiet enough none of the other men can hear him, “make Yura see he’s not special. Can we, Victor?” 

In response Victor pulls out of Otabek, which Yuuri takes as permission. He shoves at the boy until he turns over, and Yuuri pulls his pants the rest of the way off, so Victor can have better access. 

“Make him cum for me, make Yura see Otabek doesn’t need him, he’s yours, your captain.” 

Yuuri grabs the lube and works it over Victor’s cock, who moans in satisfaction. Yuuri looks at Otabek meaningfully while Victor is distracted, hoping he’ll be smart enough to play along. He doesn’t bother looking to Yura to get his permission. He’ll deal with it if he wants his lover to get out of here in one piece. 

Victor pushes back in, throwing one of Otabek’s legs over his shoulder. Yuuri takes Victor’s hand and makes it slick with lube before guiding it to Otabek’s cock, which is stiffening between them. Smart boy, Yuuri thinks, get us through this and maybe I won’t let him kill you. 

Victor tugs at Otabek, letting Yuuri hold his fist closed around him, moaning as he looks at their hands moving together over Otabek. Yuuri is careful not to touch Otabek himself, knowing it might set Victor off. 

Yuuri moves to stand by Otabek’s head, looking up at Victor as he talks into his ear, holding Victor’s gaze as he tells Otabek to cum for them, to show Yura how he’ll spread his legs for anyone, to show everyone he belongs to Victor first, Victor only. 

Victor’s hand pumps up and down as he finds a rhythm, snapping his hips, but he keeps his eyes on Yuuri. When Otabek’s breathes are finally coming in short pants, Yuuri looks at Victor like he’s hurting him, like each thrust is a stab to his heart, so when Otabek cums at last, Victor isn’t far behind him. 

Yuuri rushes to Victor’s side as he pulls out, looking down at Otabek like he disgusts him. 

“Clean yourself up,” he snarls, “and remember where you belong.” 

Yuuri makes sure to stay hot on Victor’s heels as he stomps out of the room. Better to take another beating from Victor in their room than to stay behind and let his captains get any ideas. If Yura can’t keep them off his lover, well, that’s his problem. He’ll smooth things over later, once he’s sure he’s still got Victor in his pocket where he belongs.


End file.
